Borne In Blood Part 6

She wanted to scream it's my day, too! but the words stuck in her chest and she only touched her cameo brooch as she brought forth a little sigh. "Congratulations, Uncle. When did you find out?"

"The messenger who came two days ago brought me an offer. Yesterday I penned an acceptance of terms, so in two weeks or so I may expect a formal contract." He began to consume his turnips-and-cabbage, still talking as he chewed. "This is a most encouraging development. I have no doubt it will lead to wide acceptance of my findings."

"How ... how splendid," she said, her head buzzing with hidden fury.

"It is, it is." He continued to eat with gusto. "I have to tell you, my girl, that this is the very opportunity I have sought for years. I am beside myself with enthusiasm."

"That's wonderful, Uncle Wallache," she said listlessly.

"And coming at just such a time! It is as if my life has emerged from obscurity into renown and delight." He reached over and patted her hand. "Now, if only I can get you properly established in the world, at least one obligation will be behind me."

"But you will have two more obligations," she said, so sweetly that none of her malice showed in her voice or on her face.

"True, true. It befits a man of my position to a.s.sume these responsibilities." He took a long draught of wine. "If the weather improves, I may soon restock the wine-cellar. It is time we had some decent vintages laid down again. I antic.i.p.ate the need to entertain once my work is read in the academic community."

"Yes, Uncle," she said softly and tried to choke down her food.

Werther brought in a tureen of soup, this one made of sausage and chicken meat with herbs and onions. He set this down and got the wide bowls from the cupboard, removed the first-course dishes from the chargers, and set down the bowls, then fetched the spoons. He left the first course in case either von Ravensberg or his ward should want more of it. With a little bow, he left them alone.

"The soup seems especially good today," von Ravensberg announced as he reached for the handsome Baroque ladle. "Let me have your bowl, Hyacinthie."

Obediently she handed it to him, and watched as he all but filled it with the soup. "There. Hold it carefully; it's hot." He had issued the same warning every day for the last eleven years, but she nodded as if she had heard it for the first time; he continued as he always had: "Mind you have bread with it. The strength is in the bread with the meat, not the meat alone."

"Yes, Uncle Wallache," she said, and dutifully took a slice of bread from the basket at arm's-length down the table. She knew it would taste of straw as she spread a little fresh-churned b.u.t.ter on it.

"These two girls-they're going to need a lot of attention from you. They have lost much. You know what it's like, becoming an orphan suddenly." He smacked his lips as he poured out soup for himself. "I depend upon you. Yes, I depend upon you, to shepherd them through their first months here. Let them benefit from your experience, if you will."

"I suppose I can," she said, imagining her uncle in the girls' beds already.

"Calm their little fears, keep them from ... from making fools of themselves. They may be disconcerted for a time, and you may spare them difficulties." He took the largest slice of bread and slathered it well. "You know how it is."

"Yes," she said tonelessly; when she had told the minister's wife what her uncle did to her at night, when she was nine, the minister had beaten her for lying and ingrat.i.tude. Perhaps she could spare the girls that humiliation. Much as she did not want them here, she did not want them exposed to such degradation even more.

"Good; good." He consumed a good portion of soup, finally saying, "This journey to Amsterdam-you will need a few new gowns for it. I will arrange for you to visit Frau Amergau for a fitting some day next week, so she will have them ready in time for your travels. You'll want a walking-dress, a morning-dress, a calling-dress, and something for fancy occasions. I can't have my ward presenting a shabby appearance, not if I intend to marry her well. I might even provide for a dancing-master, so you may partic.i.p.ate in the b.a.l.l.s in Trier and Amsterdam."

"Thank you, Uncle," she said, despising herself for feeling grateful to him.

"Accept Constanz Medoc and I will consider it money well-spent." He drank more wine, apparently unaware of her widen eyes.

"Constanz Medoc?" she burst out, her eyes filling with tears. "The one who came here two years ago?" She didn't add the old man, for he was more than forty.

"Yes; yes." Von Ravensberg nodded. "A very good man, my girl."

"But he's bald!" Hyacinthie sobbed, trying to express her repugnance without exposing herself to her uncle's disdain. "And he smells of snuff."

"He's bald because he thinks so much. He is a most upstanding man, with an excellent reputation, one he has worked hard to establish and maintain. He is a very well-respected scholar, one whose work is known throughout Europe. He has been searching for a wife, a woman to ornament his life and tend to his pleasure. He is of an age when he wants children to carry on his name. His expectations are reasonable; the wildness of his youth is gone." He stopped, staring at her. "But you seem distressed."

"Because I am!' She pushed back from the table and lurched to her feet. "I don't like him, Uncle Wallache."

"You don't know him, my child. No doubt you have dreamed of a handsome young man who will carry you away to the city. Cities are dangerous places, and handsome young men have poor judgment in such matters. You are trying to suit your dreams to your life, and that is most unwise." He patted the table next to her place. "Sit down; sit down. You're overwrought. I oughtn't to have told you all this so suddenly." He waited while she complied. "You won't have to marry him if you truly dislike him. But you will have to marry someone, and you may decide, after you have a look at the world, that there are many worse men than Herr Medoc, for all his father was a Frenchman. I am in no position to keep you around here forever, and I will not have my niece working as a governess or a tutor. You know how that would reflect upon me, to have you earn your living. That would abash the family. So. A year from now at most, if you have not made another choice, I will accept Herr Medoc's very gracious offer for your hand."

"But how can I find anyone else?" she wailed. "Ravensberg is leagues away from anything!"

"Perhaps in Amsterdam, or in one of the cities during our travels, you will find a man who suits you, and who is willing to marry you; I will do my utmost to see you have the opportunities you seek," he said without any suggestion of confidence.

She tried to stop the tears from falling, and very nearly succeeded. "Thank you, Uncle Wallache," she told him demurely.

"You must be realistic, my girl," he said sympathetically.

"I have no fortune and you are my only real connection," she recited, repeating the phrase he had told her regularly since she was seven.

"That's right." He glowered at her as he spooned up the soup, then broke off sections of bread and began to sop up the broth. "You don't want to end up on the shelf. I have nothing to leave you, and I cannot continue to support you-"

"Not with Rosalie and Hedda coming," she interjected.

"Exactly." He popped a bit of soaked bread into this mouth.

"You mustn't think that I mean you any harm, of course," he went on as he chewed. "But there are limits. Perhaps, if my work is well-received, I will be able to provide a stipend for the youngsters, but I doubt I can afford to do it for you."

"I see," she said, very coolly now that she had mastered her outrage.

He nodded to her. "You sit down and finish your dinner. You don't have to decide everything right now."

"Not with the girls coming," she said, too brightly.

"Yes. I have set two of the maids to preparing rooms for them, down the hall from mine." He dropped his spoon into the small puddle of soup at the bottom of his bowl. "I'm going to have to a.s.sign one of the maids to them permanently, so you will have to share Idune with them."

"As you wish." She moved her soup-bowl aside, its contents largely untouched.

Von Ravensberg persevered. "I know you'll be courteous with them. These accommodations need not be an occasion for distress."

"Certainly not," she said, planning to discover how to reclaim her one privilege-her maid-from the cousins.

He reached for the bell, ringing it emphatically. "They say they have trout today for our fish, with potatoes in a Dutch sauce." He studied her for several seconds, as if truly seeing her for the first time. "Your appet.i.te is lacking, my girl. You should eat something more than those nibbles you've had."

She blinked. "I suppose you're right," she said. "I'll have a good portion of fish," she a.s.sured him, wis.h.i.+ng she could vanish from the room.

Werther appeared in the door. "Are you ready for the fish?" he asked. "It is ready to be served."

"That and another gla.s.s of wine," said von Ravensberg. "And bring a small gla.s.s for my niece. It is her Natal Day, and she is now a woman. She should have wine when I do. But no beer. Gentlewomen should not drink beer."

"Nein, von Ravensberg," said Werther.

He smiled his approval. "Is it truly trout we're having?"

"So I am told. With potatoes, bacon, and Dutch sauce." He picked up the platter of turnips-and-cabbage. "You'll want more bread, too, I see."

"Soon, lad, soon."

"Yes, Graf-" He stopped himself. "Von Ravensberg," he corrected himself.

"Exactly," said von Ravensberg as the under-chef let himself out of the smaller dining room.

"Thank you for ordering wine for me, Uncle Wallache," Hyacinthie said, suspicious of his sudden magnanimity.

"It is time you learned how to behave as a woman. A sensible man expects to have a sensible wife." Von Ravensberg coughed once. "You must not cause disgrace to me and our family by your conduct, which means you must establish how much wine you may safely drink."

"Oh," she said, lethargy coming over her again like a pall.

"You owe me that much, my girl-not to bring a poor opinion upon me through your carelessness. I have housed and clothed and fed you since you were seven when no other relative would do so." He rapped his knuckles on the table. "You don't realize how the world is. Every aspect of your behavior reflects upon me as your guardian. Never forget that."

"I won't," she promised, and looked toward the door where Werther was returning with a basket of bread, a bottle of pale-yellow wine, and a tulip-shaped gla.s.s along with a large covered platter of what smelled like fish. "I will never forget you, Uncle Wallache," she vowed.

Text of a letter from Kla.s.se van der Boom, printer and publisher, Eclipse Press, in Amsterdam, to Saint-Germain Ragoczy, Comte Franciscus at Chateau Ragoczy near Lake Geneva, Yvoire, Switzerland; carried by private messenger.

To the most excellent Comte Franciscus, the greetings of Kla.s.se van der Boom in Amsterdam on this, the 21stday of July, 1817: My very dear Comte, Herewith find my account of sales from January to the end of June. As you can see, sales are up and averaging eight percent per t.i.tle, which is a most encouraging sign. I am hoping you will agree to another expansion of our publication list, and a larger initial printrun for the three t.i.tles I have indicated have enjoyed the greatest sales of the last year, for I believe we may rely upon those t.i.tles to continue to sell and to attract more readers to these books. I have broken down the reported sales by month, as much as that can be determined, and by country, so that you may better appreciate where the interests of our readers lie.

I must also inform you that the new presses of your own design will be delivered next month, and I remind you that you have expressed the desire to be here to supervise their installation. This would please me not only for the opportunity it will provide for us to speak again, but to make certain that the presses are working to your specifications and satisfaction.

The summer has been fairly cool thus far, and I would think you need not worry that you will encounter oppressive heat in your travels, but I urge you to discuss with your coachman the requirements you may have for travel in a day. This may be summer, and the days may be long, but it is also the time when footpads and highwaymen are most active. Be sure you do not find yourself on the road at sundown, or be prepared to fight all manner of thieves for your possessions. Since Napoleon is no longer a menace, many of his men, left portionless in the world, have taken to outlawry as a means of preserving body and soul. This, above the usual criminals who prey on travelers. I would not like to see your profits lost to paying your ransom.

As soon as the time of your arrival is generally known, I will bespeak rooms for you at whichever hotel suits your purposes most completely. Your courier will also be received with hospitality, and I will take it upon myself to ensure his entertainment. You have only to inform me what concerts and b.a.l.l.s you would like to attend and I will see you have the proper invitations. If there is any event you would like to sponsor, I will be honored to put it in motion, if you will let me know what you seek.

Let me address one other point to you: Graf von Ravensberg has declared he will come to Amsterdam to review the pages of his book prior to publication, as he has been afforded the opportunity to do. If you have any desire to meet him, I will find out what his plans are in this regard, and make arrangements for such an engagement. If you would rather not meet this man, then tell me, and I will see that no such encounter occurs.

Believe me to be ever at your service,

Kla.s.se van der Boom.

printer and publisher.

Eclipse Press.

Amsterdam.

enclosures: accounts as described above.

6.

Ragoczy studied his coachman's twisted leg in silence, not looking at the man's contorted face as he inspected the damage done to his body; the heavy dust smirching his black swallow-tail coat and his superfine black unmentionables did not bother him, nor did the smear of blood on his discreetly ruffled white-silk s.h.i.+rt-cuff. Finally he rose from beside the cot on which Ulf Hochvall had been laid; the coachman was dazed by pain but he did his utmost to concentrate on what Ragoczy told him. "I will set the leg, of course," he said. "It should heal straight if no further damage is done, and he stays off it while the bone mends."

"The coach ... will need repair," Hochvall confessed.

"It will need replacement," said Ragoczy, unperturbed. "Your repair is more important. I will see you have it, and the time you will need to recuperate. You need not fear that I will not employ you because of this, but I will need to find an alternate for you through the rest of the summer." He wiped his hands and glanced at his two field-hands. "If you will add to your kindness and bear Hochvall into the chateau, I would be most appreciative."

Jiac Relout nodded to his companion. "I suppose we can do this." He looked up at the sky. "No rain coming yet."

"Certainly not for a day or two," said Ragoczy, indicating the way to the kitchen door into the chateau. "You should have him within doors before then. I will have bread and drink of your choice ordered for you in thanks for your service." He was already moving toward the door, compelling them to come after him.

"Food and drink. Why not?" said Loys Begen, shrugging before he picked up his end of the cot.

"Careful," warned Relout. "We don't want him to fall."

"No," said Hochvall, his voice suddenly loud and panicky.

Ragoczy paused near the garden-gate. "Yes. You have no need to hurry. Think of how his injuries would feel on you and be gentle with him."

Relout ducked his head and signaled Begen to lift his end of the cot and move on.

It took almost ten minutes to get the cot into the chateau and to set it down in the antechamber to the pantry. The two field-hands were panting with exertion when they were done, and Begen looked down at Hochvall. "If you must be moved again, someone in the household will have to do it."

"C'est vrai," said Hochvall with emotion; his face was pale and sheened with sweat, and his skin was clammy to the touch, as Ragoczy discovered when he took the coachman's hand.

"Fetch a blanket," he said to the two field-hands. "One of the household staff will find one for you."

"It is a warm day, Comte," said Begen.

"It may be, but this man is cold, and in his condition, such cold is dangerous." He turned as he heard a discreet knock on the door. "Who is it?"

"Rogier," said his manservant from the hallway.

"Ah. Very good," said Ragoczy. "Will you bring me a blanket-one of the light-weight woollen ones, if you would?"

"Of course," said Rogier.

"There. Now you need not be put to the trouble of doing it," said Ragoczy to Relout and Begen. He reached into his waistcoat pocket and drew out two gold coins. "For your trouble. They are English guineas. Any reputable bank will honor them."

The field-hands, who had never set foot in any bank, took the money and ducked their heads; they would keep their treasure in their hidden strong-boxes. "Many thanks, Comte," they said almost in unison.

"And mine to you," said Ragoczy. "Now, let me tend to Hochvall before his condition grows worse."

"What about the coach?" Relout asked.

"I suppose it should be levered out of the ditch, at the very least," said Ragoczy, "and the road sh.o.r.ed up so that it will not happen again. The three sound horses should be stabled and groomed, then turned out in the paddock until sundown, and observed for signs of tie-ups or bruises. I will examine the fourth animal in an hour or two, and dress his cuts. If you and four men will tend to the horses and the road after you have had your refreshments, I will pay for your efforts." He was bending over Hochvall, his manner slightly preoccupied as he took stock of the coachman's worsening condition. "Post a lad on either side of the damage to warn others of the danger. I will pay for their service, as well."